


Mangoes

by Highsmith (quimtessence)



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Immortal (The Old Guard), First Kiss, First Meetings, Kissing, M/M, Modern Era, No Angst, Romance, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27716696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quimtessence/pseuds/Highsmith
Summary: "Can I share yours?"Joe shrugs.The smile he receives is small but carries itself upwards from lips to cheeks to eyes as if it were a star breaking itself apart into dawn.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 251





	Mangoes

As a rule, weddings are a bit of a mixed bag as far as Joe's concerned.

But the top-shelf booze is flowing freely, Quynh looks gorgeous, and Andy did him the courtesy of seating him at the bar. Joe can't complain.

Hours later, waistcoat unbuttoned, tie discarded around the neck of a half-empty bourbon bottle, Joe sits on the steps of the small stone folly by the pond, only on his third glass of the evening, which he's been nursing for the better part of an hour. Far off, about halfway between the main house and the folly, Quynh and Andy are dancing by themselves, sans music, barefoot and lovely on the pristine lawn.

"Are you sharing that?"

Joe doesn't startle visibly, but it's a close call. He turns to watch as the stranger rounds the bit of stone meant to give the impression of a millennia-old ruin and seats himself one step down from Joe, placing a delicate glass container filled to the brim with melting ice by Joe's feet.

Tilting his head up, he says, "Nicky," and offers his palm. Joe takes it. It shouldn't be warm, what with the little glass ice bucket he's been presumably carrying around, probably liberated from an unsupervised table inside the house, but it is, somehow. Or perhaps Joe's own is chilled. He cannot for the life of him remember where he left his suit jacket, and the wind has been picking up in the last quarter of an hour.

"Joe," he replies. "No glass?" he asks.

Nicky puckers his lips, the upper one curling in a way that Joe imagines probably came across as bratty when he was younger. He shrugs. "Can I share yours?"

Now, generally speaking, Joe can realise on his own when he's being flirted with. Is good at picking up social cues where people being _interested_ are concerned. But there's something about the uncomplicated blue-green of Nicky's eyes and the sunset reflecting in them from the side that has Joe wondering if he's misreading this. In the distance, the lawn stretches out emptily, Quynh and Andy having certainly disappeared inside. Joe shrugs.

The smile he receives is small but carries itself upwards from lips to cheeks to eyes as if it were a star breaking itself apart into dawn. The eye contact lasts for far too long, Nicky already fiddling between them with the bits of ice. Joe hears the clink of it falling inside the glass, the splash of bourbon along the edges of the glass. They finally break the stare when Nicky glances down to reach for more ice. He brings the glass up for a small taste, but Joe looks away.

"It is... good," he says. Joe hears glass lightly touch stone. Then, "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Extraordinarily," he replies, and finds he means it. Dancing with both brides. Talking art with Nile and Booker. A gorgeous August evening with nowhere he's meant to be other than right here, right now. "Yes," he says, certain.

He turns to Nicky, who catches his eye and nods.

They leave everything behind but the glass as they start walking along the edge of the pond, trading sips of the two fingers of booze that are slowly but surely getting diluted by the melting ice. Each time Joe presses the glass back into Nicky's hand, their fingers brush, each time more and more until Joe's palm ends up essentially cupping Nicky's own around it. They stop near a secluded part of the property, at the far end of the pond where the water's low, well outside of a direct view from the house, as Nicky downs the rest of the bourbon and delicately places the empty glass on the dregs of an old wooden pier.

When Joe leans in he expects to taste spirits. But Nicky must have indulged in the overly-sweet mango tart, Andy's idea of a joke, or perhaps her idea of an _interesting_ wedding cake. Joe barely touched his, but, from Nicky's tongue, it tastes delicious, just the right amount of sweet and giving way to wooden notes from the bourbon that Joe wants to taste over and over again.

Dry-mouthed by the end of it, he pulls away, gratified when Nicky follows closed-eyed and lips shiny. His shoulders are broad, and his waist is trim and immensely touchable beneath his suit jacket. He opens his eyes eventually, and Joe can easily see they've gone dark.

"Want to head back?" His voice comes out too deep. He hardly cares. The wind picks up again, and he shivers involuntarily. Watches Nicky's eyes grazing his body.

Nodding, Nicky says, "I've got a couch. I flew in last-minute. Didn't believe I would make it until I did."

"Lucky," Joe says.

"Destiny." Nicky licks his lips. They're a startling shade of pink now.

This is wild. Joe feels unhinged and overheated. He says, "I've got a room," and Nicky nods eagerly.

They head back, and, the next day, they exchange numbers and kiss wetly in the corridor outside Joe's room for far too long, but the following week they meet up in the city, and from there they're off.

**Author's Note:**

> Work is shit, but my body is full of love for these two, so fic wins! :D
> 
> If you liked this bit of feels, please consider leaving a kudos or a comment or even both, whatever you're comfortable with. Stay safe, loves!
> 
> Tumblr: [rhubarbdreams](https://rhubarbdreams.tumblr.com/)


End file.
